


Almost Human

by turnedherbrain



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Leotilda, Love, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnedherbrain/pseuds/turnedherbrain
Summary: I’m almost human / Finally breathing, what is this feeling? / HumanA few imagined scenes for s3 ep3.Spoilers for s3 eps 1 and 2 :)





	Almost Human

**Author's Note:**

> With both of them re-located to the Hawkins’ house, Mattie shows Leo what it means to be human again. This is pure, unapologetic Leotilda.

Leo looked around the bedroom. Compared to places he’d stayed: crashed out on couches, or curled on a camping mat on the cold forest floor, this was luxury beyond measure. Despite his initial unease, he felt happy in that moment. He put down his backpack with its meagre load – different coloured t-shirts and joggers, a couple of hoodies; not much else – and stretched out in the space.

Mattie decided to perch on the edge of his single bed. Typical. Her mum had put him in Soph’s old room, emblazoned with unicorns prancing on the wallpaper and clashes of bright yellow and pink. It was hardly… well, it was hardly what Mattie wanted for him. But it would have to do. Maybe they could swap: he could have her room. She had a double bed, and it was more spacious… more grown-up.

‘D’you want to sleep in my room instead?’ Mattie asked him out loud. From the strange look fleetingly on his face, of slight alarm mixed with _something else_ , she realised that her words had been taken literally. Both of them, sleeping there. Not a swap. ‘Oh… I meant… I mean…’

‘’s OK,’ replied Leo. ‘I get it.’ At least Mattie was there, in the same house. The human he trusted more than anyone else. The person he more than liked. He wasn’t sure what this feeling was, alternately nervous and overjoyed, but it wasn’t something he’d experienced before. Where was Mia when he needed her, with her wise words?

‘I’ll, ummm, I’ll leave you to get settled in,’ said Mattie, running her fingers over the coverlet with its illustrated images of more unicorns. She’d much prefer Leo to sleep in her room, but felt that asking him again would be too much.

Leo spent less than a minute unpacking. He didn’t need to hang up his clothes. They were stacked in three neat piles: one for t-shirts, one for joggers, one for anything else. The only other item he’d brought with him was his laptop. He laid down on the bed, looking first at the daffodil-bright ceiling and then craning to look at the sky outside, the blue brush-stroked with wisps of white.

Ten minutes later, he decided that he’d had enough of lying down, despite his still-weakened state. He’d been forced to do that for the longest time. So he went to find Mattie.

…

He knocked gently on her bedroom door, twice, before entering with trepidation.

‘Bloody hell!’ Mattie whipped a towel off the bed and wound it back round her quickly. He covered his eyes, aware he’d just committed an unintentional error. ‘I had a shower,’ she declared in an embarrassed rush, although her being wet and only partly covered in a small towel was more than enough evidence of that.

‘Ummm. I’ll see you downstairs,’ Leo motioned distractedly with one hand to show the direction he was intending to walk, and kept the other semi-shading his eyes.

‘OK,’ said Mattie, trying to stand naturally, as if this was her usual attire. ‘I was just… surprised,’ she added, softening. Leo nodded, closed the door quietly, and only began to breathe again when he was half-way down the stairs.

Left alone, Mattie looked at her reflection in the mirror. Hair up, or down? Make up? Make up, for a man? Call yourself a feminist, Hawkins? In the end, she wore a t-shirt and jeans and just a smidgeon of mascara. Because she wasn’t dressing for him. She was dressing for herself.

…

She found Leo in the kitchen, head stuck into the fridge. He’d already been like this for some minutes, in awe of all the food that was on offer. He’d spent so long eating out of hastily snatched packets, on the move, that he didn’t even know where to start.

‘Help yourself!’ said Mattie over-brightly, as she wandered into the kitchen in her bare feet. ‘ _Mi casa es tu casa_ , y’know?’

Leo didn’t know, and was perturbed that he hadn’t understood half the words she’d spoken. He needed Niska to translate. Randomly, he retrieved a jar of antipasti from the fridge. He didn’t know what antipasti were either, but they looked delicious.

Mattie reached into a cupboard and brought him down a plate, then added some cutlery around it, so a place was laid, ready for him to eat. Leo hesitated before he sat down. He wasn’t accustomed to this… normality… these daily habits of human lives: the sitting down to eat and the washing up and the more eating and the going to bed in proper bedrooms under a safe roof.

Mattie sat down opposite him. ‘Do you want me to stay, or go?’

‘Stay, please,’ Leo answered, still feeling like a newcomer in a foreign land: someone who doesn’t know the language or the local customs, but has met a helpful guide.

‘How are you feeling?’ Mattie asked him, as if she could read his thoughts.

‘Almost human,’ Leo laughed, covering his slight discomfort. ‘I never thought I’d be this way again – human, I mean.’

‘Being human. It’s more than just _being_ … it’s, y’know, **_being_**.’

‘ ** _Being_**?’ Leo looked part-mystified. ‘You mean, what makes us organic humans different from synths? Our biology, I guess. We don’t think, or react, anywhere near as quickly. That’s most of it, as far as I’ve experienced. Plus, we have the ability to forget: sometimes needlessly. And we can’t switch off our emotion.’

‘So is that good, or bad?’ replied Mattie, leading him hopefully on. They were both masking their emotions right now, and she wanted to discard all these layers of awkwardness and politeness.

‘Both.’ Leo was confused by her question. ‘I mean… it’s definitely good to feel something. But then, when you feel bad, it would be good to switch it off.’

‘Would it though?’ asked Mattie. ‘Don’t we need to experience the depths, to enjoy the heights?’ _Ugh._ She sounded like a new-age manual. It was the one time she really wished her mum was here. She’d have some sound advice for Leo: far more sensible than her daughter’s clunking attempts.

Actually, scratch that. She was glad her mum wasn’t here, and the house was quiet, and it was just the two of them. She was very glad of that. Because there was something else going on, half-hidden in this conversation. It was in the small but significant glances to each other’s lips and hands, and everywhere in between. It was talking about something, but underneath, talking about something else.

For what really made them human? An indissoluble urge to go further, to do more than _just_ talk. To do more than _just_ describe their emotions. It was that urge to act upon them. To feel. To really feel.

…

Night-time reached the Hawkins’ house with its regular certainty, adding to the feedback loop of day-night-day.

After supper on the third evening of Leo’s stay – more food, more conversation, more clearing away – Laura went to do some paperwork, Soph had finally gone to bed, and Toby had finally taken the glaring hints from Mattie. She didn’t know where he’d gone. He just wasn’t there, and it was finally finally her and Leo, alone in the kitchen again. They sat next to each other at the table, in suddenly-shy silence.

‘Is this weird?’ she asked him eventually.

‘What?’

‘This. Being here. Some semblance of normality.’

‘Yes… a bit. A lot. It helps that you’re here.’

Mattie tried not to blush. Why was she acting like some innocent bride on her wedding night? ‘Ummm… thanks, I guess?’ she decided to say sarcastically. _Ugh, yet again._

‘I mean it,’ continued Leo, undiverted. ‘You and Niska - you're the reason I’m alive. I’ve got so much to be grateful for.’

Mattie exhaled. ‘I don’t want you to be grateful. I want…’

‘What?’

She looked away into the lounge, where her mum was sitting, head bent over her unending work. ‘I want everything to be OK. I want the world to be peaceful. Not this forced division. Not this…’ She motioned with her arms, imitating a wave breaking over the tabletop.

Leo captured one of her hands in his own, his touch reassuring. ‘It will be OK. I know it will.’

‘You sound like Max.’ She couldn’t help but grin. Then she saw Leo’s smile vanish, the mention of Max prompting a too-recent memory, and added: ‘He made us leave for your safety. For _our_ safety.’

‘I know. He’s always been a good influence. I just didn’t recognise that enough.’ Leo gave a regretful shrug, trying not to feel the ache of loss.

Another short silence, their hands still clasped. No more words, but so much more being said below the surface.

‘Do you want to…?’ she asked, glancing up in the direction of her room, to make her meaning understood. She was done with subtle. She was ignoring misery. She wanted to feel. She wanted to _be_.

‘Yes.’ Leo said simply, and she caught more of that _something else_ in his gaze.

‘We’ll have to… you know…’ She brought a finger to her lips, mimicking ‘quiet’.

‘Yes.’ Now his expression was openly, abundantly clear.

Without words, they escaped upstairs together – an urge to act; to feel, overcoming reason and logic and anything else they’d tried to throw in its way. Mattie was sure the whole household heard, as they half-ran up the stairs.

Once in the closeted safety of her room, they were bolder in the almost-dark, with hurried kisses and clothes hastily cast aside, until they were nearly naked before they’d reached the bed.

Then they collapsed together, soft caresses turning into deep deep kisses lasting longer and longer, trying hard to cover their sighs as their urgent need overtook them.

Afterwards, they slept in the secure stillness of the night. Leo didn’t wake to daffodil yellow or dancing unicorns. He woke up to see Mattie, lying next to him: magic in the real world. Tracing a tender line with his fingers along the curve of her side, he nudged himself nearer and curled up around her, the mingled heat of their two bodies bringing him back to life. No longer almost human.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title and quoted lyric from Lauren Daigle ‘Almost Human’, on the soundtrack to ‘Blade Runner 2049’


End file.
